


Crucifixion

by PhoenixFire17



Series: Nagron Behind the Scenes [2]
Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFire17/pseuds/PhoenixFire17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron is captured by the Romans and Crassus has him crucified. While on the cross Agron begins to hallucinate.</p>
<p>This takes place during The Dead and the Dying in Season 3: War of the Damned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crucifixion

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my very first fanfic ever and I would really love comments and critiques but please be gentle with me. I wanted to explore Agron's time on the cross, even though it pains me just to think of him up there. I thought that if I was in that position I would start seeing things and we all know what Agron would see :)
> 
> There is some language in this and I do talk about the crucifixion so please be warned.
> 
> German translations will be in the end notes.
> 
> Thank you so much for your interest!

"And I would see this one soften......Nail him to cross."

All thought and action stilled as the harsh words assailed Agron's ears. The worst of his fears since regaining consciousness inside Roman camp was now made real. The man before him, Imperator Marcus Licinius Crassus, meets guarded eyes with equally blank stare. Yet the fucking traitor, once embraced as fellow rebel yet now known to be Caesar of Rome, smirks with arrogant laugh upon lips.

Agron is pulled to his feet by rough hands and wrists are unbound. He tries to seize opportunity and end the life of the hated Romans before he himself greets the afterlife, yet weeks without proper food or rest have taken toil on the gladiator's body and the Romans do not share similar burden. He is forced to lay back upon ground, arms outstretched and lashed to wooden beam. Again he fights yet his body is too weak to gain ground against Roman hands. Caesar again laughs at the effort and Agron meets his eye with defiant gaze.

"I shall yet have your fucking head", he screams to the arrogant Roman cunt.

The man kneels by Agron's left side, mallet and nail in hand. Meeting Agron's eyes, he smiles down at Agron, "An impressive feat for one who shall never again grasp sword."

Agron's clouded mind did not grasp true meaning of Caesar's words until nail was pressed to palm. True fear clenched at Agron's gut, turning his insides and closing his throat.

_The fucking cunt_ , he thought refusing to give voice to inner terror and allow the Romans yet another victory over him. Agron had seen many crucifixions, both in his homeland and since being captured by the Republic. He knew the true placement of nails resided at base of wrist, meant to sever vein and spill life's blood upon sand. To imbed metal in palm only succeeded in inflicting agony and draw out the victim's suffering. If placed there it would not matter whether he survived the ordeal, the nails would cause damage beyond repair. _They will truly take all from me._

Agron attempted to steel his nerves with heavy breath as Caesar readied mallet and nail. He vowed to show no emotion as the Roman ripped all but life from him. Yet when metal entered palm, cleaving through flesh and muscle, his screams seemed not his own. The force of his release ripped through throat, leaving it raw and burning and Agron could taste blood on his tongue. Yet the pain was nothing to the agony in his hands as mallet struck nail again and again. Bones attempted to flee from the intrusion yet the force of assault was too great and Agron could feel them snap underneath skin. He no longer recognized the sounds coming from his mouth. The Romans had pegged him dog, feral and wild, and his lungs threatened to prove accusation true. Screams had changed from those of a man in agony to the growls of simple beast, low and guttural and paired with strained hisses.

As the last strike hit home, successfully burying the metal into his palm, Agron let out one last growl before all sense left his body. Through the blurring of his thoughts he took no notice as the Romans lifted his beam and placed it upon pole, the broken skin of his soles catching on the uneven grain of the wood.

Agron let his head loll and mind wander. Through the burning agony that blurred vision and stole breath, he saw a vision that made heart both soar and seize in chest.

Standing before him was one he had never thought to see again, not in this life. Brother and friend, the boy turned and caught Agron's eye. Tears welled and Agron could not staunch their flow. Before him stood Duro once again whole and full of wicked mischief. Laughter poured from lips long since cold and still.

" _Du siehst aus als hättest du einen Geist gesehen_."

Agron smiled weakly at the words, hearing mother tongue spoken by one much loved and sorely missed was balm to both soul and body.

"That is because you stand as ghost." A hysterical laugh escaped from Agron's lips, catching the attention of Roman guard, who strode forward to connect blow to hip and sling curse. As the man walked passed, Agron's attention focused again upon his brother so long absent from his presence.

"Why do you visit me brother? Do you seek to guide me to the afterlife? If so break no more words and carry out deed for I have been too long mired in the smell of Roman shit." Agron did not wish to die, no he longed for an embrace much sweeter than that of death. Yet reunion was now forever removed from path and he would rather die and await loving embrace from the afterlife than to remain another second a toy for Roman amusement.

Duro's eyes lowered and shoulders drooped. When eyes locked yet again, the younger man's eyes were filled with both longing and regret.

"I desire nothing more than to once again feel your embrace, yet we must remain parted still brother. It is not yet your time to join me and for that I am grateful. You have time left in this world, time filled with contentment and love," Duro smiled sadly up at the tortured man before him and Agron wished he had use of his arms once more so that he could embrace his brother and chase away all that troubled him, much like he used to when Duro was still a child.

Duro's voice broke as he continued, "No brother, I come merely to offer hope during troubled time. It pains me to leave you here and if I could I would slaughter all who lay hands against you. But I no longer have place in this world and your mind must now turn to thoughts of another. Hold your heart tightly to your chest brother and the gods will see you returned to it once more."

Agron felt his heart break anew as his brother began to fade from his sight. The wounds that he had thought healed opened yet again, leaving him hallow and broken in more than body. Already clouded vision blurred further, coupled now with blackened spots. Agron readied himself to embrace the darkness, believing himself for the afterlife despite reassurances sprung from fevered mind. Yet as his vision began to fail completely, another specter appeared before him, this one sweeter than that of cherished brother.

Through the blackness strode a single figure, small in stature yet lithe and graceful. The man strode forward towards Agron as a cat would stalk prey. Yet Agron felt no fear, just deep longing and regret. When the man finally stood before him, Agron felt a single tear fall down his cheek.

Nasir took Agron's face in hand and wiped away tear with a swipe of his thumb. Agron felt his lower lip tremble at the look in his beloved eyes. Where he had expected to see anger and hatred for his departure and betrayal there lay only love, pure and unyielding. Looking upon the man who held his heart after so long an absence stole Agron's breath and closed throat.

A small smile tugged at Nasir's mouth and lips met lips in gentle caress, seeking not passion but simply contact and reassurance that ones heart remained intact.

Drawing back Nasir placed foreheads together, "You would not see me so easily from your arms", he spoke in gentle whisper. Words sweet as honey to Agron's ears. He remember the day not long ago, yet which seemed a lifetime, where he had spoken same words to the Syrian.

"Do you share fate with so many of our brothers," Agron asked fearing the answer yet needing it more than breath itself, "or are you yet of this world?"

Eyes of forest green met those of darkest brown, and joy leaped within chest when the other man smiled again, "I yet live, as do you."

Deep laugh turned to raking cough and no more words were broken until Agron regained his breath. "You are mistaken for I fear that the ties holding my soul to this life are unraveling as we speak," Agron spoke through rasping breath.

The anger that Agron had expected before now reared to life within Nasir's eyes and stained his words. "Would you abandon me yet again," he hissed between clenched teeth, "for is our love not enough to keep you grounded to this life?"

Shame blossomed in Agron's chest as the words struck their intended mark. Yet Nasir did not leave opening for Agron to break words of his own.

"You yet live, meaning that the gods still favor you Agron. Do not relinquish your hold on this world and they may once again see you returned to my arms."

The words settled within Agron's chest, filling the emptiness that had existed there since his and Nasir's parting. Their warmth spread out to his limbs, restoring life and strength to broken flesh.

With smile upon lips Agron gazed into the eyes of his wild little dog. "I was fool to ever leave them," he said before seeking another kiss. As lips met lips Agron's world went dark. Yet it was not the blackness of death that embraced him. The strength of will that had kept him tethered to the  waking realm fled his body, allowing him to escape from his torment into the land of dreams.

Memories flooded Agron's mind. The sight of Nasir, newly freed from his Roman master, sword in hand and sparring with Spartacus. The appreciation Agron had felt for the Syrian's smooth caramel skin and ebony locks. The longing in his gut to run hands across that velvet flesh. The elation at seeing Nasir awake and standing after nearly fatal injury. The feel of lips upon lips for the first time, sweet as honeyed wine. The passion released when flesh had met in intimate embrace. The pride at watching the former slave transform into lethal fighter, one with skill matching the finest gladiator. The awe at knowing that the remarkable man had chosen an unworthy savage from the lands East of the Rhine to hold his heart.

With these images soothing battered soul, he vowed that if the gods returned him to Nasir's arms, Agron would never again part from their loving embrace.

_To set eyes again upon your heart…I know now why a man would risk all for such a thing._

**Author's Note:**

> German Translations
> 
> Okay I originally wrote Duro's German like this:  
> Sie betrachten als ob geist Bruder
> 
> Which translates into this:  
> Loose (my) translation - You look as if upon ghost Brother  
> Exact translation - Consider as if ghost Brother
> 
> However the lovely intortus gave me some suggestions on how to better phrase the German. So now the German goes like this:  
> Du siehst aus als hättest du einen Geist gesehen
> 
> Which translates into this:  
> You look like you've seen a ghost


End file.
